College Ruled
by Havalina
Summary: He spends his days in college filling up spiral notebooks with meticulous notes, feeling listless and uninspired, until he recognizes himself in the mirror image of someone impressively bold. AH/SLASH
1. Chapter 1

**Thanks to TippyL and SingleStrand and SaritaPagita.**

**... a first story, because I want to see sweet, unassuming Edward kiss that pretty mouth of Riley's. And he will.  
**

The start of a new semester is always full of possibilities. He liked the feel and the smell of new notebooks and unused pens. Each blank spiral was literally a clean slate. Not that he needed one, per se. His semesters ended exactly as they should; he made A's, and professors he would never see again gave his final essays good enough, or even glowing, praise. He was making it, doing well even.

Sometimes, in a class or on the quad, he would feel a little stirring for someone. He would notice one girl a little more than the others. But it always took him several weeks to find the gumption to say anything of consequence to her, if he did at all. If she was in class with him, and that class was pleasant, with lots of camaraderie and banter, he would loosen up enough to look that girl's way, say something pithy and perhaps strike a tentative acquaintance that might lead to something more. If the stirring was for a girl he simply saw around campus regularly, it would take him four or five instances of prolonged eye contact to work up to a handsome smirk, and then, only if fate provided a opening - such as finding themselves sitting on the same bench, needing a light, or in queue together at the cafeteria - would he introduce himself.

So it was that after six full semesters of college, he'd been on dates with five girls. He'd found the nerve to ask six times. One of them didn't work out. Well, none of them worked out, but that one didn't work at all. She was with someone, he guessed, but she never said for sure. She just hemmed and hawed about her plans for the weekend and then never looked his way again. The others, well, they went on dates, sometimes several. They met each other's friends, hung out at bars, saw movies, studied together, talked about life and the universe sometimes. Four of them he kissed. Three of them he touched. One of them he was inside. A lot.

They spent all of their time together that semester. She was soft and round in the right places. She wore little black rimmed glasses and had really short hair. She almost always wore earrings. She had a pretty tattoo between her shoulder blades. She had been in his chemistry class and lab. He was fulfilling a general educational requirement; she was a biology major. He'd needed a good deal of help in that class. So she taught him chemistry, and they had had some. Then, it was the summer. He went home for it. She stayed on campus for some summer courses. And when he moved back to the dorm, he had no need for chemistry anymore, and she had no need for him.

It wasn't a problem for him, although he should have wondered why a fairly good-looking guy had been laid by only one girl in three years of college. But he wasn't in school to get laid or to make friends; he really just wanted to learn . . . something. Something about himself and something new. He wanted the possibility of those blank pages to finally fill up with something that called to him. _This is what you should recognize in yourself. This is who you are._ Unfortunately for his looming graduation, all he had found was that he really enjoyed filing up spirals with meticulous notes. He liked lectures and seeing how much of what the professor said he could get down verbatim. He liked going back over his spirals and discover the outline of the lecture with precision, even when the instructor had worked to hide it. He had built up a college-ruled library of things he wasn't sure he would ever need, but he still relished the opportunity to put pen to paper and figure it all out.

On the first Monday of his senior year, he found himself doodling the pages. He knew spanish class was not going to speak to his future, as the lectures would be few and far between. He stared at the thinly-ruled blue lines and knew they would fill up with translations, conjugations and equal signs, but no flowing thoughts or brave, philosophical outlines. Not much was Socratic about Espanol. So, he wrote his name and doodled boxes in the margins, waiting for the class to fill up. A few fellow students were sitting quietly around the room when a group of friends came in and plopped into the seats behind him. Their conversation was interesting and their words were clear, and he found himself writing them down. In the neat script that he loved to create and then pour over, he filled his spiral-bound lines with their thoughts about a recent film he hadn't seen, and had no plans to.

_She_ was loud and witty, making the three guys laugh and admire her. Her thoughts were separately poignant, silly, trivial and sometimes raunchy. Two of the guys were only raunchy, laughing heartily when she said something taboo, or when they themselves spouted innuendo. Still, they weren't puerile and neither were their observations. He wasn't offended or annoyed. He found himself wishing he had seen the film so he could join the conversation. The last guy was quieter and reserved. His chuckle was low and unobtrusive. As she expended their talk on the movie, this last guy smoothly switched their conversation to Senorita Veronica, who was instructing the class. He'd had her before, and knew her to be cool and low-key. She rallied for peer grouping and threw fiestas for her students regularly. Suddenly, the conversation was no longer something he could pen. He didn't want to copy idle gossip about his professor; he wanted to go back to film criticism. That had some value for his page. However, despite the cessation of his pen and its interest, _he _listened more intently.

When the syllabus had been handed out, Spanish monikers adopted, and a short story read aloud in choppy phrases and bad accents, he allowed himself to turn around and take his first look at this group of friends. They looked totally normal. They looked like him. Nothing stood out about them so that he could place where they might fit. They weren't hipsters, even though one was wearing an old concert t-shirt that was obviously meant to convey what he felt was his superior music knowledge. They weren't jocks, even though one of them obviously lifted a lot of weights. They weren't intimidating, even though he was intimidated. Jeans, t-shirts, hoodies, Vans, a headband, flipflops, a black wristband of no known origin, a pair of glasses, a soft brown jacket, a GAP messenger bag. It was all very normal. Just like him.

Dark brown eyes met his greenish ones and a wide, impressively beautiful mouth spoke the first words directed to him this semester, "Hey. You had Spanish before?"

"Um, yeah. I have. I took 1101 last semester and tested out of 1102. That's how I'm here."

"Did you have Veronica?"

"No. Senor Morena."

"Veronica's awesome. I think this class will be more conversational. She likes that."

"Yes, I heard that you'd had her." Dark brown eyes above a soft brown jacket sparked with the acknowledgment of his admission that he'd been eavesdropping. Dark brown eyes didn't seem to mind, but the rest of the group was shuffling out, their belongings gathered in arms and bags, their bodies turning towards the exit.

His soft, sort-of green eyes looked to floor, allowing them to leave without feeling the need to include him even with a simple, "See you Wednesday." He hoped this would be one of those classes where he would feel relaxed enough to open up, be himself, and maybe act on that stirring he felt.

Even though this time, the stirring had him spinning.

oooOOOooo

On Monday night, he looked over his notes for each of his classes: the blue spiral for Modern Psych, the yellow one for Southern Gothic Literature, and the black one for Spanish II. He searched his notes, looking for what punctuated the pattern - where his pen should trace his script so that what once got lost in the stream of words would stand out in bold. He liked the look of his notes once he thickened the headings with extra ink. He could glance at the page and distinguish the finer points from the major ones. Bold and utmost. Fine and detailed. All ordered.

He didn't expect to find a pattern in between those thin, black cardboard covers, in the pop culture ramblings of a group of friends from his Spanish class, but it was there - the conversation punctuated not by the loud, amusing declarations of an assertive girl, or the brash comments of her cruder friend, but instead by the modest, assured directives of the one with the dark brown eyes. _His_ statements were unassuming but crisp and moved their random conversation with a grace that had gone unnoticed. When they got bawdy, he was resolute, but witty. When they were obvious, his response was wily and astute. He never offended, but he navigated their talk with skill, smarts and symmetry. The words were bold, and so he, confused and compelled, bolded them. Then, he went to that damn movie.

oooOOOooo

**Thanks for reading. **


	2. Chapter 2

Three Spanish classes later, on another Monday, he sat in the same seat, doodling in the margins, and glancing at his notes from the week past. In swiftly drawn but relatively small boxes, there were rules of Spanish verb conjugations and something about the preterit versus the imperfect. These small boxes were the meat of what he was meant to learn in his class. But for the first time, his class notes were hasty and incomplete, most likely lacking important points. Instead, his black spiral was filled to overflowing with impressive notes outside the boxes that contained the pertinent information.

They never spoke of that movie again, but they spoke of other things, as good friends are wont to do in lazy moments before lectures begin. So his pages told of an intricate story about a new favorite band's album that was impressive but smacked of selling out anyway, and a simple tale of a weeknight get together where she drank too much and someone else schooled them all in a game of UNO, and even a sympathetic report on a deprecating professor with a penchant for the esoteric in his class.

And just last Friday, he picked up the best thing his pen could hope for - bold and underlined, sometimes boxed, but always distinct - their names. Tyler and Mike, Kate and Riley. Such simple names, really. Nothing to impress. Kate spoke the most, and her name appeared the most on the page. Tyler and Mike were written in initials more than he bothered to spell them out. And the darkest name perched on his thin blue stripes - where his pen bared down to thicken the lines and curves that comprised him - yes, the darkest name belonged to the darkest eyes. Belonged to Riley.

He loved how "Riley" looked in his neat script; the large curve of the "R" balancing the low dip of the final "y" so that it was symmetrical, almost sexy. He'd always loved symmetry. He craved for things to harmonize with beauty. When he saw balance in nature, in architecture, on his page, something swelled within him, called to him. He wanted to make more of it. More mirror images. More of the same. Nature's beauty was found in its symmetry, and he was finding Riley's name everywhere he looked. And he wanted to mirror what he saw.

But an entire week had gone by since they had spoken. What he had hoped would be an opportunity to make some new friends had proven his most awkward class to date. He shouldn't have expected so much, and then perhaps he would not have been so disappointed. But since he was completely unsure of exactly _what _it was he wanted, perhaps the inaction was for the best.

"Clase, prepárate para la fiesta del viernes primero. It will be a conversational adventure. You will be expected to converse, and you will be graded. If you cannot make it Friday night, sign up for office hours to have a chat with me. But the fiesta will have margaritas, así que ... su llamada. ¿Preguntas?"

He had plenty of questions, and his face heated with the awareness that his confusion was most likely evident. But he looked at his notes, doodled a bit, and allowed other confused students to take the hit for him.

"Same place as last semester?" His ears perked up, hearing Riley's smooth speech.

"Si, Raul." Senorita Veronica gave a few more details of the Friday Fiesta - time, place and portion of their grade. He made notes. As the rest of the class filed out, and he put his notebook and pen away, he heard a throat clear behind him.

"Are you planning on coming to the fiesta on Friday, man?"

Greenish eyes met darkest. "Yeah. It's part of our grade, right? Plus it sounds like an ok time. Veronica's pretty cool." He tried but failed to ignore the staccato rumble in his chest because it felt awkward, uncomfortable and obvious. The last thing he wanted was to be obvious.

"Well, this place is a complete hole in the wall. A Mexican family owns and operates it, and I think they just move the tables and sleep there at night. But the food and the tequila are just insane."

He shuffled out from his desk, and pulled his messenger bag over his head to rest across his chest. When he looked up, Riley's eyes were even darker and trained on the strap of his bag.

"Well, I guess I will see you there, Riley." Darkest eyes flashed to soft ones.

"You know my name? I don't remember introducing myself. Well, as anything other than Raul. I only know Eduardo. So are you ... "

"That _is _my name."

"Eduardo? Your real name?" He looked beyond incredulous.

"Well, yes, I mean, it's Edward. I'm Edward in real life. I mean, in English. But I guess Eduardo is really my name. In Spanish." He flushed, beyond embarrassed.

"Edward. Huh. Ok. Well, look, this place is pretty hard to find if you've never been before. You're welcome to ride with me, with us." Now Riley was shuffling. Back and forth. He stood on one foot only to move to the other until he finally settled on leaving his right knee propped up into the chair of his desk.

"Yeah. That'd be great. Let me get your cell so we can text where to meet and everything." He spoke with a confidence of which he was not assured. Riley put his foot on the floor and stepped closer to him, displaying none of the shuffling insecurity of the moment before. Edward fleetingly wondered who was feigning confidence more. They exchanged cell numbers and small smiles before Riley spun around and out the door. Edward stood transfixed for a moment, thinking how a precarious balance can so easily shove you into freefall.

oooOOOooo

It was 6:15 on Friday night when he finally got the text he had been waiting for the past few days.

_We're meeting off-campus at my place in fifteen. Still got the address? -Raul_

_Got it. On my way. - Ed (uardo)_

The ride to La Taqueria was, in all honesty, uncomfortable. Riley drove, and Tyler was sitting shotgun with Kate and Edward in the back. Mike was, apparently, unable to make it. Kate was effusive and talkative, excited about two things: two-for-one margaritas and getting to know Edward. Tyler was already half in the bag, half-interested and hardly interesting. Riley seemed to focus on the road and navigating the unfamiliar neighborhood to the small restaurant, and Edward felt as if he was conspicuously playing catch-up with life-long friends. But he discovered that while Kate and Riley had known one another since their freshman year, they had only met Tyler the week before the semester started. Somehow, hearing this did not make him more at ease, instead he wondered why he felt even further off balance.

As Kate asked him personal questions for which she readily offered her own answers, he found his gaze pulled, as if some unknown force silently commanded it, to the rearview mirror, in spite of his desperate desire to keep his eyes straight. Several times he caught the tail-end of a dark flicker, a volley between watching Kate and scrutinizing Edward. He burned with self-consciousness and discomfort that both he and Riley knew they couldn't keep their eyes away from that two-sided mirror - that damn reflection revealed a dual compulsion, to see and be seen.

"We're here," he heard from the front seat. "I think." They piled out of the car in front of the restaurant that was little more than a turquoise door in a dilapidated storefront.

"We're either down for some serious enchiladas, or we're going to be sold as drug mules." A typical Kate comment.

Tyler scoffed conspicuously, "I'm staying in the fucking car if my asshole is on the line. I'd like it to stay pretty and unmolested; I don't care how good the food is."

"You're not here for the food, Tyler. You're here for the tequila, remember? And your ass is far from pretty," Kate remarked as she looked to Edward and gave him a quick wink.

"No doubt a few shots, and you'll care less and less about the whole drug cartel thing," Riley reminded him, "and of course, they make you _swallow _the drugs, not carry them in your colon."

"I'm not into swallowing either," Tyler said with a mock-frightened look on his face causing Kate to laugh loudly while Riley good-naturedly shook his head and Edward felt warmth traveling through his chest and up his cheeks. Again, he felt ripped open and obvious, more by his reaction than the course of conversation.

The four of them found three other classmates just inside the door, and together they huddled in the tiny, dank area that served as the entryway to the restaurant, waiting to be seated. Veronica appeared from the back of the room and waved them in, already seated at a large, semi-circular banquet style table in the furthest corner of the small eatery. As the group shuffled past one another to get to the table, Riley was momentarily shoved into the nearest dusty corner.

"Sorry." Edward apologized even though he was positive he had not been the one to throw Riley off balance. He would have been well aware if he had touched him.

"Not your fault." Riley gave him a genuine smile, while his eyes lingered longer than they should have for so simple a declaration, as if he were wanting Edward to do the same. Unable to hold his dark brown gaze, Edward glanced at Riley's shoulder and noticed a mess of spiderwebs and dirt on the black cotton from where Riley had backed into the wall.

His hand reached up without his conscious permission and started to brush it away. "You have some cobwebs on your shirt." A shudder ran down Riley's back, and he wondered if was from the suggestion of crawly things on his body or from the reality of Edward's crawling fingers. Nevertheless, Riley's hand joined the task, skimming the warm skin of Edward's hand as they both removed the sticky threads from his shoulder.

"Thanks, man." Riley began to move into the room, when the tips of Edward's fingers stopped him fast. Edward took a step closer to Riley's back, the tips of his ring and middle finger their only contact. His fingertips trailed from the bone of Riley's shoulder down his short shirtsleeve and slightly underneath it, making the first introduction of their skin. Belying the deep pounding of his pulse, Edward smoothly said, "You have some more on your arm." Edward's chest violently crashed between his spine and his sternum, but his fingers were steady as he carefully traced the line of Riley's tricep, feeling the soft hair shadowing the crease of his underarm, back around to the curve of his outer shoulder, and slowly and finally out of his shirtsleeve again.

"There. Got it all." He choked on the breath he had been holding in.

The room and entry were not lit by much, a few sconces on the walls and colored Christmas lights around the shuttered windows and along the ceiling tiles. In the muted light, Edward took in Riley's features, starting with his very smooth, slightly upturned chin. Edward's gaze traveled along his jawline to his wide cheekbones and masculine profile, and keeping away from his eyes, landed finally on his broad and full lips. They were slightly parted and dry as a bone from what he could tell. He shocked himself with the want to rectify that - immediately. His keen intake of breath awakened them both to their solitude in the entry way, alone, together. Without a word, Edward turned from Riley's side and went to get a seat at their table.

Kate had saved them both a seat, requiring them to either squeeze onto the padded bench next to her or sit in a wooden chair next to it at an awkward angle to the table. Edward waited for Riley and motioned him to the bench before sitting in the chair and pulling it alongside him. Kate flashed a look he couldn't place in his direction, while Riley stared studiously at his menu.

Senorita Veronica welcomed them and then reminded them in English that for the entire dinner, they were to converse with one another in Spanish only. The quiet conversations that had been going on around the table abruptly stopped, as everyone stared at their photocopied menus, and gave one another sympathetic half-smiles. Several pitchers of margaritas later, they were more readily speaking their second language, amongst giggles and bits of English curse words. Veronica asked Edward directly if his arroz con pollo had been as good as it looked, and he gave her a blank stare before dropping his gaze to his side and fumbling through his messenger bag.

"Wait, I know this, I mean, yo tengo delicioso uh ... hold on." He fumbled through the flap of his bag and pulled his black spiral out with a drunken flourish. He flipped through the first few pages, looking back and forth for a specific translation before stumbling through the phrases, "Que fue cocinado a la perfección. Simplemente delicioso." He got a few humored claps and chuckles from his classmates. He smiled wide at Veronica, and then around the table, stopping at Riley with an expression of a childlike desire for praise. Riley's brows were knitted together, and his eyes were fixed on the open spiral notebook propped between Edward's belt and the table.

Edward didn't need to scan the page to know what Riley was seeing. He'd already memorized the pattern - the Roman numerals of the outline replaced by Kate's name and her silly anecdotes on an UNO game, the supporting points made by T. or M. or by no one at all, just deductions. But above it all, was the perfect symmetry and bold distinction of Riley's undeniable name. It was dark and concave on the blue lines, appeared no less than seven times, and was artfully traced and re-traced. **Riley **... blah blah blah ... Kate, Kate, T. ... yada yada yada ... Kate, M. **Riley, Riley, Riley. **Their conversation, perfectly preserved on the page, and his attentions glaringly obvious. And he had wanted so badly not to be.

Edward slammed his notebook shut, turned his body and thrust it into his bag. His quick actions stilled at that, and he slowly turned back to the table, keeping his eyes on his nearly empty plate. Veronica asked questions of some of the other students, and while a girl named Lauren tried to describe why she was a vegetarian, Edward excused himself to the bathroom.

He went straight to the single, one-person bathroom and sat heavily on the toilet seat, attempting to catch his breath. He felt bared in a room of strangers, cut open among mockers, left to dangle amid scoffers. For three years he had been looking for something to call out to him on those goddamn pages, and it only took one glance from someone else for him to see it. The way he transcribed the world around him was unique to him alone, and if he found hidden themes of god-complexes in African-American literature, or evident cause-and-effect in Florentine art and politics, then those revelations were his singular voice amid the mundane. And on those college-ruled pages, he had found Riley ... incomparably bold, entirely interesting, and impartially sexy. In seeing him on the page, he wanted to see him elsewhere. He needed to find him in everything. He wanted him every way.

The epiphany spun him. He stood on shaky, inebriated legs and flung himself toward the small sink and mirror. His head hung low as he stared at his fingers and imagined he felt the skin of Riley's arm underneath them, envisioned his fingerprints marking the smooth flesh hidden by black cotton-dark and concave, like his name on the page. The stirring took residence below his belt, and he groaned. He was not expecting this. He could not have planned for it. But he knew it. He knew this. It was the mirror image of what he had seen expressed in darkest brown.

He pulled his head slowly up to see his reflection in the small, beveled mirror and took in his appearance. From the tips of his artfully messy reddish brown hair, his smooth, flat forehead and unkempt eyebrows, slightly crooked nose, pinkish lips and stubbly, square chin and back to his soft-green eyes, made even brighter under the twinkling colored lights and his flushed cheeks. He parted his lips to tell his reflection the truth when the doorknob rattled and turned.

"Oh, sorry, I didn't know you were still in here."

"I'm done." He turned to leave.

"Edward, are you ok?" A cool hand on the back of his arm. He recoiled violently and couldn't feel bothered to feel guilt for it. He was too consumed with feeling everything else.

"Yeah, just a little too much tequila. I'm fine now."

"Well, when you jumped up from the table, you looked pretty white. Did you get sick?"

The door swung closed, ancient (and useless) doorknob clicking into place, and he felt trapped and claustrophobic. He did not want to be here. No.

"No, but if I stay in here much longer, I might. It's pretty putrid."

"Yeah, oh sorry, I'll see you out there."

As soon as he swung the door open he felt the rejuvenating air. He scrubbed at the back of his arm, wanting the phantom touch erased by anything else. He bypassed the table and walked straight outside. He needed the air. He couldn't go back. With his eyes glued to the gravel parking lot, he didn't notice him until his toes almost kicked the back of his Vans. Riley spun around and looked Edward directly in the eye as Edward took a step back from him. They were too close, two tornadoes dangerously near to a twining collision.

"Kate went to look for you in the bathroom. You ok, man?"

A choke. He wanted to speak, but instead, he nodded affirmatively. Then, "She didn't say she was looking for me. She acted like she busted in on me on accident."

"Did she, like, _see_ you?" Riley smirked.

"No! No. I was at the mirror, just ... I don't know." He wanted to hide inside his own skin.

"Well, I think she's trying to hide her interest a bit. But she, um, saw your ... notebook, and I guess, decided it was ok or whatever."

There was an interminable pause. Kate had seen and so had Riley. And she ... what? The confusion must have shown on Edward's face, as he couldn't bring a thought to the forefront of his mind, much less out of his mouth. Finally he choked out, "Thinks it's ok?"

"Well, yeah, it's kind of written there in black and white, if you know what I mean ... I mean, you're interested, right?"

Something wasn't computing. Riley was too affected in his nonchalance. Edward looked directly into him and knew the reflection was all wrong. But, for the first time, he wanted to be _transparent._

"Yes." Resolute. Firm. "I am. Yes."

Darkest brown fell for just a moment, and then steeled. "Well, then, what are you doing out here with me?" Too casual. Too forced. "Knowing Kate, you could have her against the wall of that literal shithole by now." Steel. Hard. Wrong.

His resolve faltered with the realization that Riley didn't see him, didn't see what was evident on his page, didn't know he wanted him in so many ways. That is, until he saw the shadow of his own disappointment cloud Riley's black, down-turned expression. Of course. Riley _had _to know. He was the astute one, the observant one. Kate had come to the wrong conclusion - that Edward's page showed his affinity for _her_ - and voiced her assertions with characteristic candor. As usual, she was loud and sure, but she was mistaken. And just like every other time, Edward knew that Riley saw the flaws in her thinking, but this time, Riley had wanted it to be false too much to deny it. Edward needed to be the one to claim it this time.

"No. I couldn't." _Look at me, Riley. See this._ "Because Kate might be interested in me, but I'm not interested in _her_."

A slow, surreptitious smile cracked Riley's wide mouth, even as he kept his eyes trained on the ground. Then he looked slowly but directly at Edward and saw it reflected back to him. "Is that so?"

A short nod. A shift on the balls of his feet. His head was spinning. Twin cracking smiles caught in one another's beams.

Suddenly, the turquoise door crashed against the side of the building as Tyler came stumbling out, barely supported by Lauren and Kate, stealing their attention.

"Hey, guys, a little help!" Riley jogged over to the threesome and took over for Lauren in getting Tyler to the car door. She looked at Edward. "Hey, I think everyone was tallying up, but you weren't in there to pay your bill. You may want to head back in before you are a verified dine and dasher."

Edward walked back inside to the table, laid down plenty of cash, grabbed his bag from the back of his chair and said, "Buenos noches," to Senorita Veronica and the waitstaff before heading back to Riley's car.

Tyler was nearly blacked out in the backseat, and Riley was trying to make sure he wasn't going to puke.

Two fingertips on the back of his arm.

"I'll sit back here with him, make sure he's ok." Edward offered.

"Thank you."

This time, the ride was only uncomfortable for Tyler and Kate. Tyler, because every bump in the road reminded him of how much alcohol was sloshing around inside him, and Kate because she was forced into the realization that her interest was not reciprocated. Because Edward never took his eyes from Riley's in the reflection of that damned dual mirror.

oooOOOooo


	3. Chapter 3

**Again, thanks to TippyL and SingleStrand and MeteorMuse. **

**Also - EEK for the lemon in this chapter. *hides***

**oooOOOooo**

After dropping Kate off at her dorm, Edward let out a breath he felt he had been holding since he ran from La Taqueria's bathroom. His relief was short-lived as Tyler groaned and shifted awkwardly onto his stomach in the backseat, looking like getting sick would be almost welcome.

"Ugh," Edward's eyes met Riley's in the mirror, "I'm going to help you get him home."

"Yeah, I think he's in Ross Hall, but I'm not sure. Fuck. I think I'll just have to take him back to my place. Let him sleep it off on the floor."

Edward felt a surge of an irrational emotion, and his nostrils flared and stomach clenched. He didn't want to ruminate on the implications of that involuntary response, so he focused on shifting Tyler's drooling mouth away from the side of his leg. Once parked in Riley's driveway, Edward pulled Tyler out of the backseat, first by his legs, then under his arms, Riley helping to brace him enough so the three of them could make it to the back door. Despite the 185 pounds of dead, drunken weight between them, the only bit of flesh they were attuned to was where Edward's hand brushed underneath Riley's elbow as they crossed behind Tyler's back. Distracting was not the word for it. It was consuming. Once Tyler was safely comatose on the sofa, Edward and Riley slowly regarded one another with caution, a tangible awkwardness returning, although it was underlined with a strong current of anticipation.

"Edward, I..." Riley began, his eyes on the soft carpet under his feet, then darting around the room and finally settling on the dark kitchen, "I, um ... would you like something to drink?"

"Um, sure. What do you have?" They walked back into the small kitchen, as Riley opened the fridge to offer Edward an assortment of sodas, cheap beer or juice. The action itself should have been innocuous enough, but Edward's chest and cheeks warmed with the somehow obscene visual: Riley barely awash in the light pouring from the open fridge in the dark kitchen, bending halfway at the waist to check the bottom shelf for drinks, one arm holding the door open on his right, the other propped at his wrist on the top of the fridge as he ducked his head under his arm to look directly at Edward with a smirk, "So, you want ... what?"

His dark t-shirt was pulled against the side of his torso, leaving a small patch of skin visible above his hip. His short sleeve gaped slightly, revealing that very same skin that Edward had felt earlier, both in the restaurant and in the carport - their only carnal knowledge of one another: fingertips to muscled arm. The sight of that soft skin peppered with disappearing hair left Edward dizzy. _I want exactly ... that. _Suddenly self-conscious and unable to breathe, Edward choked out a request for ice water and sat in one of the two chairs at the small kitchen table under the window.

Riley handed Edward a bottle of water, popped the top of his own beer, and leaned against the counter a few feet from the table. Edward thought it odd that the gust of air coming steadily from the vent in the floor was slightly warm. It was September, and still warm enough outside. Then a smooth voice broke the silence, and he thought of nothing else.

"Eduardo, tell me something."

"Tell you what?"

"Anything. Anything at all. One stipulation though - it has to be about you." Riley took another long swig of his drink, and soft, greenish eyes traced the angle of his tilted chin with precision.

"I'm a senior. A history major. And that means, I'll be a student for awhile longer, I'm sure."

"No, that's not what I meant. Something _about you_. A thing, I don't know. Real."

"I'm not sure I know what you mean."

"Like this. Your classmate Raul," Riley held his open palm against his chest, "has a bit of wanderlust pumping through his veins, just itching to get away - go anywhere, everywhere, for no purpose than to have stepped on as much soil as possible and have soaked up sun and rain and moonlight under way too many skies."

Edward's fingers twitched. He wanted a pen. His pen. He wanted to write that down so he would never, ever forget the way it was spoken, how the words tumbled out of that comely, wide mouth, how Riley kept his broad hand over his heart, at the juncture of his v-neck shirt and rubbed his chest slowly as he spoke, emphasizing the symmetry on either side. But more than anything he wanted to capture the sentiment. Edward had never before pondered traveling the globe, why people were compelled to roam without direction. Suddenly, he understood the compulsion to claim Earth, to have your feet land where men of all nations have stood, to see clouds drift over infinite skies, to see the stars in every hemisphere. How was it possible that Riley did this him? Why did he find his words so ... stunning?

Then he spoke. "You're very poignant."

"You like words."

"Other people's, maybe."

"I like yours."

"Which ones?"

"The right ones." Riley's mouth was upturned with mirth. Edward sensed he was either making fun of him or trying to put him at ease. Those two motivations were so opposite, that the only thing Edward felt was confusion and fatigue.

"I'm not sure I've said anything right tonight, or ever, really." He was wistful and embarrassed with the truth of his statement. He played with the label on his nearly empty bottle of water to hide it.

"Not true. But I'll give you the option to figure it out later." Edward finished the last swig of water and recognized he had worn out his welcome with that gesture at the same moment that it compelled Riley to be hospitable and offer him something else. They moved in tandem, Edward jumping up from his chair with awkward haste as Riley smoothly pushed off from the counter. Their actions brought their bodies just inches from one another, an unexpected clash, too near not to be accidental, a clumsy substitute for a heavier greeting. Their eyes were leveled by their twin heights, trained on the other's lips, Riley's parted in surprise and desire and Edward's pressed into his teeth with suppression. Flickering back and forth from eyes, to chins to lips to cheeks and again, their heads jerked unconsciously toward one another and back again, the opposite sides of two magnets, wanting to be near, but forced violently apart until suddenly, Edward pulled back completely, ducking his head.

"I should go." Abrupt and final, but unsure.

Edward turned and was out the door before Riley had a chance to say anything at all, but he thought he heard a soft curse as the door closed behind him.

oooOOOooo

As he walked down the driveway to his car he could remember the feeling with clarity. It was last September, and the weather felt exactly the same as it did tonight.

After a couple of weeks of texted excuses that her new course load this semester, and her new roommate, and some issues with the registrar, had kept her occupied and tired, she had finally agreed, on a random Tuesday night at 9:30, to get together with him. She couldn't hang out, but they hadn't seen each other since the middle of May, so he thought it was eagerness that granted him this time with her.

He was right. She was eager. She opened her door, and he smiled widely at her. He had been rather indifferent to their separation over the summer, and he didn't know how it would feel to see her again, but he was surprised with a nice flood of ease and warmth. He wanted to hug her, ask how her summer had been, kiss her lips.

She attacked him. She grabbed him by the belt, slammed the door shut and shoved her tongue in his mouth. Groping and pulling at clothing and hair and skin, they were naked faster than they had ever been together. She pushed him to the rough, industrial-grade carpet and sank down onto his erection before his shoulders hit the floor. Soft moans and sighs contrasted the loud, violent slapping sound that her sticky thighs made as she rode him. At the time he thought it was harmony, but it was just the first movement; once he knew the whole score, he heard the dissonance.

She came quickly, for her, then hopped off of his hips and turned around on all fours.

"What are you ... where - "

"You want it this way. I know you do. Come on." She seemed insatiable, and impatient. He was right about one of those.

He wasted no time settling behind her and pushing in. She was right; he did want it this way. He loved the way her backside spread open for him, her lean thighs traveling downward like marble pillars under a perfect arch. He wanted the sight to last forever, but she reached her hand back and began tugging on his sack as soon as he started thrusting. She knew he couldn't resist that, but she usually waited until he was ready for it, until he asked, until he couldn't take it anymore.

"Come _on_, Edward. Come on."

It had been too long, over three months, and she knew his body too well. He grunted softly as he came, and she wrenched out of the hold he had on her hips before his shudders ended.

The conversation that followed was only slightly longer than the sex - a full fifteen minutes. After they were mostly dressed, but before he got comfortable, she spoke.

"I'm sorry, Edward. I just, can't really have a relationship this semester." Her eyes were on the door, like she was willing it to open with her stare.

"Oh, um ... I'm sorry, what?"

"I can't do this."

"Sleepover?" He really had no intentions to stay the night. He hated sleeping in other people's dorm beds anyway, not that he had had much experience with that.

"No, the whole thing. Dating, being together, whatever. I just can't this year. I'm taking too many hours, there's too much stress. I just can't fit this in."

She refused to look his way, but he kept his eyes trained on the side of her face. "Why did you have sex with me then?"

"It's just, I'm sorry. I wanted ... it's been awhile, Edward. I really, really just ... I needed to get laid." It was a slight shock. Someone had just used him solely for sex. He should have been either cocky, impressed with his prowess, or angry at his objectification. Instead, he was slightly curious and, well, satiated. After all, it had been awhile for him as well. Still, he felt compelled to respond.

"Well, fuck. That's one of the shittiest things that's ever been said to me."

"I apologized."

"You did. And we're cool. It's fine."

"Really?"

"Yeah. New semester, new beginnings, clean slate and all that, right?"

She seemed taken aback with his coolness. "Thank you for being ok with this, Edward. I really am sorry."

He rose from the bed and slipped on his Vans. "S'fine." He moved to the door, and she moved behind him to see him out. He turned in the frame and felt compelled to say goodbye with a parting kiss - just a gentle touch of their lips, but as he began to lean his head toward hers, he stopped short.

"I should go." And he turned away without listening for her goodbye.

The walk to his car was warm and the humidity was sticky that September night, but he felt light and unencumbered.

This night was a different story. As he drove home he felt leaden, as if his chest was weighed down by those same magnets that were forcing apart an inevitable attraction. It's so easy to turn one of those magnetic poles around and let them both do what they are intended to, what they are craving. They want to cleave to one another, but one of them has to turn around. He immediately thought of Riley still standing in his kitchen, facing the door, facing Edward. Only when he caught a glimpse of soft green in his rear view mirror, did he know ... he had to turn around.

**You don't have to leave a review, but I'd love to know if you are reading this. You can tweet me: allryans**


	4. Chapter 4

**Sorry that it has been so long. **

There was no way Edward could have known this, but he had been somewhat correct in his vision of Riley facing the kitchen door, steady and waiting for him to bust through it. After Edward's abrupt departure, Riley did stand motionless, his eyes fixed - but not on the door where Edward had left, but on the space in front of the table where they had faced off, where they had nearly connected, where they had traced the air around one another with bright eyes. And he _was_ waiting for Edward, although he didn't expect him to come back through his door. No, he was waiting for Edward to make a different admission.

The resonant pulsing of his heart was the only thing Riley could feel. His chest was drumming louder and louder; the thrumming in his throat made it feel alive, separate from the rest of him. Even his thoughts were churning, but only one thought pervaded.

_God damn it. Just ... dammit._

oooOOOooo

Life doesn't happen all at once, at a fast, entertaining clip. The punctuated moments in one's life are, more often than not, spread thin by time, separated by lengthy stretches of the mundane. Edward didn't know it as he drove the now familiar roads back to Riley's house, but this night had marked its moments and was done. It had been a night for revelations and not for much else. It would be miles and days before he had a new moment on which to cling.

The house was dark as he pulled up alongside the curb, adrenaline pumping through his shaky anxiety, but the darkness didn't matter to him much, since other than a small light in the living room and another from the refrigerator, the house had been dark earlier as well. He parked in the single driveway behind Riley's car, and quietly and purposefully walked through the carport to the kitchen door. The glass of the door reflected nothing, not even the moonlight beyond the side of the house; there was no light, no life inside Riley's house. It was still, outside and in.

Edward's resolve faltered. He had intended to march in and redirect what had happened before he abruptly left, but the lack of light halted him. The dark swallowed up his determination.

oooOOOooo

He was no better prepared Monday morning. It was overcast and dank, doing nothing to brighten his already dejected mood. All weekend, while his silent phone taunted him, he replayed the latest hours of Friday night. He was dreading Spanish class, mortified by his behavior from the other night, and reluctant to face Riley.

He slouched at his desk in their early morning class, feigning more nonchalance than he had ever felt in reality. The boisterous quartet he expected to enter came in quiet two's instead. Mike and Tyler entered the room looking ragged and hungover, neither speaking to one another or anyone else. Tyler gave Edward a nod of recognition and then put his head down on his folded arms, while Mike played on his phone and yawned. Edward heard Kate's quiet giggle before he saw her. She was halfway in the door and pulling against something when Edward heard a muffled groan of assent from a voice to which he was all-too-attuned.

Riley entered Spanish hooked around the elbow by Kate's arm; he must have been what she was pulling on. His head was down, but Edward thought he saw the remnant of a reluctant smile pulling on the corners of his lips. _Shit, his lips._

Kate put her other hand on Riley's upper arm, and leaned into his ear to murmur to him. As Edward watched them from under his lashes, he felt a twinge of unease. He couldn't remember a time when he had seem them touch or be affectionate to one another. As they walked down the narrow aisle to their usual desks directly behind Edward, he felt his heart rate speed up. Just as he was looking away to his notebook, Riley looked up and directly at him. _Damn._

"Hey, man." Riley minutely curled his upper lip above his teeth in a pleasant way when he spoke.

"Morning, Riley. Hey, Kate."

"Eduardo." Kate managed to make every syllable of his for-Spanish-class name sound like she was mocking him.

To Edward's surprise, Riley took a detour from his usual desk next to Kate and sat directly in front of Edward instead. He turned around and put an elbow on Edward's desk (and partially on his notebook) before smiling broadly.

"How was the rest of your weekend?"

"Oh, um. Pretty uneventful. Studied, hung around. Wrote some stuff. The usual." God, his weekend somehow sounded even more lame than it actually was. "What about yours, Riley?"

"I played guitar. A lot, actually. Kate and I saw Inception Sunday afternoon. That was about it."

"How'd you like Inception?"

"I wanted to sleep through it."

Despite the fact that Senorita Veronica was at her desk, looking very much like she was ready to start class, Edward laughed long and loudly. When he heard a distinctly feminine cough from behind him, he stifled his laughter, only to beam even brighter when he saw Riley's rapturous expression looking back at him.

Riley leaned slightly towards Edward and beckoned him with his dark browns to do the same. He murmured so lowly it made their proximity seem cavernous. "Laugh more often." And with a shy smirk, he turned and settled his attention on their instructor.

Edward felt every nerve ending preen under his skin. He couldn't think. He couldn't pay attention to anything but the minute shifts Riley made in his seat. So he looked to his notebook to let out his nervous energy. His notes from the week before stared back at him on their pristine indigo lines. He clicked his pen and began to trace it again - Riley's name. He felt a but like a middle school girl with his doodles, but it didn't stop him. "Riley" as bold as his page could take it. "Riley" as thick as it could be before it was obscured. More. Riley. As he traced and drew connected lines and artful boxes, he started breathing heavily, imagining the real, corporeal lines of Riley's face as he smiled at him. The perfection in that face that still had the look of youth in it. The beauty in that wide, handsome mouth.

"Hey, Edward." He slammed his notebook shut. He was startled as the class lumbered out of the seats and toward the door.

"Hmm?" Edward watched as Riley adjusted his messenger bag over his shoulder. How did he not notice what Riley was wearing until now? The thinnest, softest-looking, almost grey V-neck t-shirt lay snug underneath a black cardigan. The strap of his bag bunched the fabric closer to Riley's body, and Edward wanted to use his fingertips to smooth the wrinkles it made as if they were globs of paint on a fledgling masterpiece.

"Do you have a class coming up?"

"I have an hour and half until my next class, um, in the history building. Why?"

"Would you want to head to the cafe with me, get some coffee?"

"Yeah. Yeah. Let's go." Edward tried to ignore the look that Kate was throwing to Riley, but it was far too confusing not to notice. She stared Riley down in what was part incredulity and part amused warning. _What the hell is going on with them?_

The walk to the cafeteria pushed all thoughts of Kate out of Edward's mind. They were less than ten steps out of the language building when Riley pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his bag and grasped one between his lips. Edward watched, fixated, as Riley tongued the end as he fished for his lighter. By the time the exhaled smoke of that first, long drag was lifting heavenward, Edward could think of nothing but the growing problem behind his fly. _Goddamn._

"What's your next class, dude?" Riley looked to Edward as he blew smoke from the side of his mouth.

"Holocaust Studies with Dr. Rubin. It's my last integrative course before I graduate. I'll be disappointed when it's over."

"Integrative, huh? Literature and logic and rhetoric and history all rolled into one, right?"

"Well, it's a very personal subject, but a global experience. You can't really study the Holocaust without Elie Wiesel _and_ Raul Hilberg. It's painful poetry _and_ history. Art _and_ naked fact, you know?"

Riley smoothly paused on the sidewalk to put out his cigarette. Edward felt a little mortification at his impromptu speech, but when he looked at Riley, his dark brown eyes were fixed on him with a look of frank admiration. Edward relished that look, not just for putting him at ease, but for doing just the opposite as well. Riley smiled lightly and continued down the walk.

They spoke of classes and professors, papers and GPAs. Neither one of them were heavily into the college social scene. They weren't frat boys, although they went to parties occasionally. Edward told Riley about his roommate, Emmett, a political science and pre-law major who was always either studying or with his girlfriend. Most of Edward's companions were at other universities, but he had a few friends in the history department that he went out with to chill.

Riley spent a lot of time with Kate and a few others. He had some friends from a club on campus that he went out with as well, but he didn't specify what club it was, or who they were. Edward always discovered that girls were a bit put off by his quiet social life, but Riley seemed to like his life simple as well. Edward felt affirmed. It was novel and welcome, and he realized that was how he always felt in Riley's company.

They went through the cafeteria line separately, and sat across from one another at a table meant for four. Talking about what his parents did, his childhood in Washington, who his sister married and what his plans were for after graduation were not Edward's favorite topics, but he answered Riley's questions because he had plenty of his own.

"So you're from Tennessee?"

"Yep, born and bred."

"You don't have much of an accent. I wouldn't have guessed Tennessee, at least."

"It took ten years of rigorous dialect coaching and linguistic torture to rid me of it."

"No doubt, Eliza."

"Edward, did you just attempt a very lame musical theater joke?"

"I might have."

"Couple that with your vanilla bean scone there, and this is the gayest snack break ever."

That was all it took for Edward to grant Riley's request, and laugh more.

oooOOOooo

He shifted his phone from one palm to the other. _Just man the fuck up, Edward. _With a quick slide of his thumb, he'd made up his mind.

_Hey ... you ready for the Spanish exam on Friday? - E_

_IDK. You? - Rile_

_I could use some brushing up. Want to quiz each other tomorrow after class? - E_

_Yeah. Library? - R_

_Perfect. -Edward_

_Yes, we can agree on that. _

He stared at Riley's text for awhile, trying to work out what he meant. He didn't want to leave it unanswered, but he definitely didn't want to respond and sound as idiotic as he felt. The longer he stared at it, the more confusing it seemed. He decided he'd rather ask for clarification than be rude or seem stupid.

_What, that the library's a good place to study?_

_It is, but that's not the perfect part._

Edward was typing out his reply when his phone buzzed in his palm.

"Edward, can I ask you a question?" It was Riley.

"Sure."

"Did you ask Kate to join us tomorrow to study?"

"Um, no. Did you want me to?"

"Mike, Tyler? That Lauren chick? The other girl with the shock red hair on the front row?"

"Definitely not."

"Did you _think_ to ask anyone else to study with us?"

"Not really. I'm sorry, I don't -"

"Just you. Just me."

Edward couldn't form a response.

"That's what's perfect. Goodnight, Edward."

It took a moment for him to realize what had just happened. He didn't think asking a classmate to study alone after class would mean anything to them. Yes, he wanted to spend more time with Riley, but he had no idea what to do about it. He'd never been … _interested_ … in a guy before, and asking him out was beyond his capability right now. _Dating_ seemed too aware, too soon, too much. But was Riley encouraging it? Yes, his phone call was meant to clarify Edward's motivations to him. He wanted Edward to see it for what it was, a study _date._

And his voice. His voice had been low and almost … teasing. He handled Edward's fumbling with that same smoothness, that same effortless maneuvering that first attracted Edward to him. But then there was something else: a low tone, a husky reticence that teased Edward the same way those clinging cobwebs and tight tricep had. _Fuck. _Edward wasn't sure he had ever been so riled. _Is he for fucking real? Jesus. _Beyond ecstatic about spending extra time with Riley the next day, and consumed with the sound of his smooth voice telling him goodnight, Edward slid down the pillow as his hand slid down his body.

**Thanks for reading. **


	5. Chapter 5

**So, a year or so isn't too long for an update right? This is my shameface. **

He wasn't sure what he expected in class on Wednesday. Awkward looks? A vague undercurrent of excitement? Complete avoidance? All Edward knew when he sat down in his seat just one hour and ten minutes from his first official date with Riley - with a man - was that he needed the time to move just as it should. Not too slowly or too fast, but with the surety of a metronome, pointing out the seconds with finality as his pulse proved his vitality.

He arrived way too early; no one else was there. So he began to thumb through his Spanish notebook, preparing to at least attempt to study. As he looked through the pages of notes he had taken over the last few weeks, he panicked. There was no way he could reasonably expect Riley to think him anything other than a crazy, obsessive ass if he saw these pages. There was little Spanish to be seen.

He rummaged hastily through his bag, pulled out a rubber-banded stack of note cards, and glanced at his phone for the time. He had a bit more than ten minutes before class officially began. He started scrawling anything and everything from his notes that could be quickly copied to the cards. He winced slightly when he saw his uncharacteristically sloppy handwriting, but he couldn't care. He simply could _not_ open this notebook in front of Riley today.

The action of reading and copying kept his mind occupied and his nerves at bay as the classroom started filling up. He had one purpose, and he let the rest just fade away.

He didn't feel a prickling awareness when Riley entered the classroom. His hand didn't stop mid-scrawl to look his way. Edward just kept right on scribbling notes, oblivious to the gentle, brown-eyed gaze locked on the movement of his fingers, wrist and forearm. Riley smiled at Edward's furious scrawling; after a few weeks of sitting behind him he'd gotten to know the movements well. He was oh so familiar with the arc of Edward's shoulders and the pivot of his elbow as his hand flew across the desk. The times when Edward was most oblivious, Riley had been able to angle himself _just so_ so that he could watch Edward's long fingers wrap around that blue Papermate pen, gripping and releasing. He could easily recognize those fingers by the ink stains between the knuckles.

Ah, there it was. The cracking. Edward never wrote for long without bending his digits against one another, cracking the knuckles in a rote and predictable pattern. Riley shivered. He loved that sound. And he couldn't wait for what came next. Edward deftly swiped that ink stained hand through the front of his hair - once, twice and again - then gently swept just the tips of his fingers below his ear and into the hair at the back of neck- the softest hint of a scratch. Riley smirked at the habit leftover from boyhood, so fierce in the front and timid underneath, just like Edward.

"Hey, there," Riley greeted him. Edward's soft green eyes shot up to Riley's and settled on his mouth. He knew he should say something, but all he could choke out was a husky, "hey" in return.

"Don't get too much of head start on me. I thought the point was to study together."

"Oh, I'm not ..." Edward looked down at the couple dozen note cards sprawled along his desktop and started to gather them together. "I'm not studying really. Just getting organized. You wouldn't want to try to read my notes. They're a nightmare."

Darkest brown never left lighter green. "Hmmm. If you say so."

Senorita Veronica chose that moment to start class, and Riley swooped into the seat in front of Edward, effectively ending their conversation. Edward hoped his sigh of relief wasn't offensive, or even audible. It took the majority of the class for Edward to quit obsessing about every shift of Riley's body in his chair and notice Kate's absence, but when everyone started packing up to leave he asked Riley where she was.

Riley's eyes flitted to the side where Kate usually sat and said, "Oh, she's around. Didn't feel like getting up this morning I think. You ready to head out?"

"Definitely." A soft brown jacket, a messenger bag, an old Jansport, a pair of wayfarers and a navy toque and then they were side by side.

oooOOOooo

So often the moments in life that we fret over the most are the ones that underwhelm us with their uneventfulness, their ease. It's the events in between the mundane that can surprise us. The drive from the reception to the honeymoon suite. The summer between high school and college. The wait between the testing and the results. The walk from Spanish to the library.

Edward hadn't considered this moment. He'd been caught up worrying about class and what to do when they got to the library, but now he and Riley were literally walking together to their first date, and his entire mind and body was consumed with Riley's proximity. He could smell the faintest hint of coffee and cigarettes underneath Riley's ivory soap scent, and he badly wanted to brush arms and fingers together, feel his soft brown jacket. But he had no idea what was expected of him, what Riley expected or what anyone might have expected. He was entirely lost.

"Smoke?" Edward took the comment as an offer and shook his head in Riley's direction. "No, thanks. I don't."

"Do you mind if I do though? I didn't think to ask before."

"Not at all. I like when you smoke." Riley smirked around his unlit cigarette and blushed. And that was it. The rest of their walk to the library was silent except for the pucker and drag of Riley's smoking, which Edward quite frankly found to be beyond obscene. _Again with his lips._

They settled onto two low upholstered benches by a wide window upstairs. It was a fairly secluded place, where they could quiz one another without disturbing the more studious pursuits around them. They faced each other, knees nearly brushing, eyes locked, and ... started studying. Edward's note cards were a helpful study aid, and within thirty minutes they'd quizzed one another on everything they were assigned to know for Friday's exam.

"I think we have it." The corners of Riley's mouth turned up in mirth as he stressed, "_Finally._"

Edward laughed. "Yeah, thank God I suggested we rigorously study this difficult material."

"I'm not complaining." Edward looked down at his hands, holding loosely to the cards as his elbows rested on his knees. Riley's hands were so close. Half an inch away really.

"Edward, I really am glad you asked me here. You know that, right?" His position mirrored Edward's. They were still sitting facing one another, their knees touching, feet planted a few feet apart, bodies bent ever so slightly towards one another, heads bowed, their hands hanging limply between their knees.

Edward was still gripping his notes when he answered, "Yeah, I mean thanks."

"Why did you?" Riley raised his head to watch Edward's reaction, but he couldn't see his eyes.

"I kind of couldn't help myself. I didn't think about it, really. I just wanted to see you again after the other day. I don't know. Why did you say yes?"

"I can't imagine ever saying no to you, Edward." At that, Edward looked sharply up, his face the picture of want as his nostrils barely flared and his lips upturned in a closed line. He liked that. And Riley knew it.

Riley's voice was gentle when he said, "I have to ask you something though. You haven't done this before, have you? Gone out with a guy."

"Why do you think that?"

"Just a feeling."

"Have you?"

"Dated a guy? Yes." It wasn't a surprising admission for Edward to hear, but he dropped his head anyway.

"Well, no. I haven't. That doesn't mean I don't want to or whatever. Or that I'm scared. It's just new." Edward couldn't stop fidgeting.

"I understand, Edward. I don't expect anything."

Edward smirked at his shoes. "I kind of do."

At that Riley grabbed the notes from Edward's hands, brushing his fingertips along Edward's palm, and let them fall to the ground. He made no other move to touch him, but left the tip of his middle finger pressed against the blue stained callous on Edward's. Edward's chest burst with anticipation. Why did the simplest contact with Riley affect him so deeply?

Edward hooked his finger around Riley's and looked directly into his eyes. "I don't know why or how or when, but I'm drawn to you. I'm ... _attracted_, in every sense, to you."

Edward heard a muted groan low in Riley's throat. "How did you ever think you don't know what to say?" Riley chuckled. "God, Edward, I'd do anything you wanted right now after that." Edward's cheeks burned hot from his cheekbones to his jaw, as his gaze dropped from Riley's dark brown eyes to his parted lips.

"Would you kiss me in the library?" he murmured. Riley pulled part of his full lower lip under his teeth, wetting it with the tip of his tongue. Then twisting his fingers enough to press them to Edward's, he gave the slightest tug and met Edward's mouth in the middle. Riley's lips were smooth and sweet, barely a hint of tobacco in their taste, and Edward was inebriated. His mouth felt so right as Riley opened it to him. For weeks Edward had been obsessing over that wide smile, those impossibly straight teeth, and those hungry lips. And now they were sliding together, pressed in the right places, wet and sweet and fucking perfect.

They continued to kiss softly as Edward slid his hand free and smoothed two fingertips up the center of Riley's soft, worn t-shirt to his throat. With two fingers lightly pressed on either side of Riley's Adam's apple, Edward thrilled to the feeling of the insistent thrumming of Riley's low hum. He knew exactly what Riley felt in that moment: pure pleasure, total contentment and grateful anticipation.

Riley pulled away slowly with one last lingering soft press of his lips to Edward's. He lazily opened his eyes and flashed a deliciously flushed and crooked smile.

"Your mouth. It's the fucking best."

**This chapter inspired by Xavier Samuels' mouth and MeteorMuse reminding me of it. 3 Thanks for reading.**


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